The dagger fell to the wood roof. She kicked up and scored a hit, then tried to regain her feet. The human wouldn’t give her the chance. A punch and a spinning kick sent her rolling further down the roof, away from the main street. She attempted another foot sweep but he leaped up and came down in a flying kick. Katressa was reeling but she flung herself further from him and got back to her feet. Not far behind her, the roof ended over one of the parallel streets.
Katressa was bruised and bleeding from the mouth. It was no comfort that the man who faced her sported a bloody nose and bruises. Her weapons were lost, and without the crossbow she was nowhere near as deadly. The Tariykan stood there in loose clothing and looked as if his fists were the only weapons he needed. She had no doubt his hands were deadly. Cat knew she was outmatched. In her young adventuring career she had been forced to run a few times to live another day.
There was no room to run, but she hoped to create one if she could back him away. She came on with her fists, but he set to work showing his skill at unarmed combat. Painful hits and kicks hammered Katressa so fast that she had no time to react. Her helmet flew off her head just before a spinning kick from the man knocked her back down. The half-elf lie in a daze, trying to fix her eyes on her opponent. At that moment, she was too helpless to fight him any more.
The man bowed to her before assuming a fighting stance again. “Very brave, a worthy adversary. Now it’s time to finish things between us. We can’t let you follow us again.”
* * * * *
The walking corpse advanced on Jareth and swung its blade. Its moves were rather basic. The warrior woman had muscles and flexibility, allowing some graceful movements with the sword, but it was a shadow of the guard’s previous abilities. Sir Wilhelm showed his disgust at the defilement of Sahbin’s corpse. He knew such creatures had few weaknesses and did not feel pain. They couldn’t fight as well as any human warrior in a one-on-one match, despite the corpses’ resilience. Damage to certain areas of the corpse would greatly inhibit the creature and cause the occupying spirit to leave.
Jareth blocked the clumsy sword strikes and delivered a few of his own in reply. “Abriana forgive me for what needs to be done.”
The old warrior spun and delivered the blow he needed. Sahbin’s head fell away. It was a gruesome deed, but it ended the evil enchantment. The spirit controlling the corpse departed, leaving the body to collapse in a heap on the street.
The time and distraction were enough for the other two spell users to prepare themselves. Jareth turned to face them. Savannah prayed over the minotaur. Bortun, mostly healed, climbed back to his feet again. Sir Wilhelm’s efforts up to that point seemed worthless now that his opponent had been brought back to health. Revwar proved to be the more immediate threat. Waving his hands and speaking, he hurled a spell towards Abriana’s chosen. Three sword shapes emerged near the elf, flying through the air to their target. Trailing bright flames as they went, each looked to be a menacing weapon.
Sir Wilhelm spun his sword and tried to parry. He knocked one aside, and another he dodged. The third sliced into the old warrior and flared brightly. All three swords disappeared afterwards, regardless of whether they hit or missed. Sir Wilhelm Jareth, stumbling and hurt, attempted to charge the wizard before another spell could be cast. The elf touched a portion of his staff and extended a finger towards the warrior. A beam, crackling with energy, shot out from the elf’s hand and struck the brave man in the chest.
Behind Jareth, Trestan could see a portion of the beam cut through his mentor. Sir Wilhelm fell. The elvish sword dropped from weakened fingers. The noise it made clattering to the ground stood out in Trestan’s ears. Trestan did not want to believe his eyes. He tried to get up, but his muscles were twitching and weak. He looked to Sir Wilhelm for some sign that a fight was left in him, but the old man was lying still on the ground. From what Trestan could see of the wounds inflicted by the magic, they looked mortal.
Revwar reached down and picked up the fine elvish sword. “Might as well collect a few trophies of our visit.” He motioned to Bortun. “Carry the young woman. She has seen too much.”
Revwar went to the section of the street where the scabbard lay and picked it up as well. He then walked back towards his horse. On his way he observed the young smith still struggling to move. The elf looked confused for a moment, having assumed Savannah had finished him off earlier. Watching the human twitch and try to move brought an understanding to the thoughts of the elf. He smiled wickedly and raised a hand.
“Don’t hurt him, or you face my goddess’ wrath! At least for now, his life has been granted by DeLaris!” Savannah stared hard at the elf.
Revwar lowered his hand and shook his head. “You really must stop granting people their lives back, I really much prefer when you take them.”
Lady Shauntay mutely protested as the smelly minotaur picked her up one-handed and set her on its shoulder. The other hand held its axe. Weary but standing, it looked around sadly and came to the conclusion its horse wouldn’t be returning any time soon. It resigned itself to jogging, for horse riding was a luxury and not required for his travel. Savannah slipped down a side alley. Her horse was tied on the next street over.
The elf wizard returned to his horse to tie the sword and its scabbard beside the saddle. He realized one of their companions was missing. He turned about in the street and called out, “Loung! We are heading out! Get back here!” The elf noted the wound on the Tariykan’s horse. “You are going to need a new horse.”
* * * * *
Loung stood over Katressa. He was ready to reach down and end her life when he heard the yell from the street. Almost on reflex he looked back, but there was nothing to see over the edge of the roof, except the top of the church. While distracted, he heard a small grunt and movement right beside him. He jumped back to avoid an attack.
He had nothing to fear. Cat had only tried to get away in the only direction she had left…down. The half-elf had exerted the effort she needed to drop over the rear end of the carpenter’s shop. Loung Chao looked over the edge and saw her crawling on the side street below, badly hurt. He gave another bow and decided it wasn’t worth going down to finish her. They had to leave and complete what they came to do.
Running back along the roof, he dropped lightly into the yard between the smithy and Trestan’s house. He found his weapon, alongside the tangled rapier as well. He untangled the two weapons, but then discarded the rapier. Rewrapping the chain around his own weapon handle, he ran through the smithy and back into the main street.
He looked around at the carnage on the street. He was relieved that none of his companions seemed to be down. Loung saw the blood on his horse. He went to the nearby stable for another one.
* * * * *
Trestan wanted to do something, but his muscles were not helping him enough. Even if he could get up and try to fight, his quarterstaff was thrown away. All he had was the practice sword-pole and he knew it would not make a difference. Lady Shauntay looked his direction with a silent plea in her eyes. She was even more helpless, bound and thrown over the shoulder of the minotaur.
He caught movement from Sir Wilhelm. The warrior brought one of his hands close to his side and uttered prayers. Trestan couldn’t hear what was said. The warrior spoke softly, his eyes closed in reverence.
Nervously, the young smith glanced back to the elf wizard. Revwar had finished strapping the sword to his mount and was heading towards the village well. The village’s holy relic still sat in the dirt of the street, next to the well. This disturbed Trestan greatly. Did they come to steal the relic for its magical powers? Was that what started the confrontation? Even as he watched, Revwar picked up the holy item. His staff leaned inside the crook of his arm as he actually dusted off the stone. Trestan looked between Revwar and Jareth as events hastened. Jareth somehow healed some of his wounds. His prayers to his goddess actually drew a healing miracle like those of which Savannah had cast. The warrior staggered to his feet. Rev
war didn’t pocket the stone as the young smith feared. Surprisingly, the elf placed it back on the altar, exactly how it was before. Trestan wondered why the stone had been on the ground in the first place, but maybe it had been an accident. Jareth moved very quietly as he stooped to pick up Sahbin’s sword. The warrior then charged after the mage.
“Look out!”
The great axe launched following the minotaur’s bellow. Sir Wilhelm was forced to stop and step back as the large weapon sailed past him. Revwar saw the threat and acted quickly. Once again the deadly beam lanced out at the warrior. Jareth grunted in pain from the new wounds. The elf didn’t hold back after that first spell. Jareth dropped to his knees, but Revwar adopted the motions of another destructive incantation. The old warrior looked towards Trestan with sorrow.
He held his head high and spoke to the heavens. “Thank you goddess for the life you have given me! I die without fear of my soul’s destination.”
Suddenly the next spell launched out at him. A light show illuminated the area as crackling energy struck out at Sir Wilhelm. Electric sparks lanced out from elvish hands to burn at the old warrior. The human dropped to the ground, yet the elf still kept up the attack for a few moments longer. Tears fell from Trestan’s eyes as he watched. There was no doubt the elf mage was making sure the human would not get up again.
Once the deed was done, Revwar turned away and left the holy stone sitting on top of its marble stand. He lifted into the saddle and turned to face the south part of town. The minotaur retrieved his axe from where it landed. Bortun roughly jostled his prisoner as he prepared for the run ahead of him. Trestan heard noise from the south. He was able to turn his head around and see a figure at the far end of the street. The abbess of the Goddess of Death waited on her horse for the others to catch up.
Another horse whinnied from the north. Loung Chao rode out of the stable on Katressa’s own horse. He came alongside the elf and minotaur. The elf raised his eyebrows in a silent question. The Tariykan answered, “Not dead. But she is in rough shape, certainly nay condition for traveling. I’ll take her horse so she doesn’t follow us again.”
The three then headed southward. Trestan found the strength to roll aside from Revwar’s path as his horse’s hooves thundered past. His muscles were returning to their old strength at a faster rate than before. He rested his eyes on the fallen body of his mentor. Wisps of smoke rose from black marks all over the body. A good man had been lost. The young smith could recall the words Sir Wilhelm had spoken only that morning: ‘A good man has nothing to fear from an early death.’
A commotion to the south pulled his attention. A human yell mixed with a horse’s shrill scream, followed by the sound of something large hitting the ground. Trestan looked over in time to see a downed horse and a couple people rolling in the street closer by the bridge. Savannah and Loung were still on their mounts, while Bortun stood nearby with Lady Shauntay over his shoulder. Revwar, however, was getting back to his feet after tumbling off of his horse. His horse seemed unable get back upright. Another figure rolled on the ground near the horse. Bortun walked over and stomped one heavy hoof down hard on the person. The downed person curled up in a ball and didn’t provide any more resistance. Loung reached out a hand and helped Revwar on the back of his stolen horse. Together they resumed their ride south. The band of adventurers crossed the bridge over the nearby brook and stole off into the night.
Trestan was slowly able to sit up. Blood stained the street. A couple people he had known for years were lying dead near him. The half-elf adventuress laid hurt somewhere, as well as the person curled up down the street. Two wounded horses were in sight, but several more had run riderless into the night. The young man felt sorrowful and angry. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it nagged him that he didn’t even know why the fight erupted in the first place.
CHAPTER 4
A few moments went by before Trestan could stagger to his fallen friend. The young man trembled but advanced far enough to sit down in the street next to Sir Wilhelm’s body. He checked for signs of life, even though he knew he would find none. The strong heart of the paladin had stopped. Not a single precious breath moved past his proud and handsome face. Sir Wilhelm’s visage reflected serenity, looking as if he died peacefully. The paladin’s soul probably rest in the loving arms of his goddess. Trestan tried not to cry, but the moonlight lit the trails of sorrow running the surface of his cheeks.
Sahbin’s body lingered at the edge of his vision. He could not face looking at such mutilation. He preferred to remember Sahbin and Jareth as they had once been. Random memories welled up, visions of both in better times. He walked down memories of laughs, conversations, stern words, and village festivals. He remembered them for the presence they had around this village during most of his remembered life. Of course he was never close to Sahbin, but he had seen her laugh and smile in those rare times when she wasn’t absorbed in her duties. Jareth had been a second father to him, offering him a helping hand and guidance since he was small. Wasn’t it just this morning he had told Jareth he wanted the man to help be a teacher and guide to his children someday? Now it would never come. Those who grow up in a small town tend to recognize people and stay close to them. Trestan took for granted that his friends would be there the next day, certain faces would be around for a long time, and tomorrow would dawn as uneventfully as any other morning.
The young man felt a well of hatred within him at that moment, born from the losses and the lack of reasoning. He fumed at those who came and took away the life that could have been. It had been horrifying to see Sahbin’s dead body animated to fight after the brave woman had stood her ground, further angering him. He wanted to threaten those who had done this until they brought back Sir Wilhelm to life. He experienced raw anger at being a witness to the terrible deeds that night and being unable to do anything about it. The young smith wanted to retaliate or somehow alter the course of that night’s events. Trestan tried to bring some measure of calm back to his mind as he sat brooding. He realized that however he felt later on, he could not change what had happened.
The young man looked about the street. The wounded horse tied to the hitch post wouldn’t carry a rider anytime soon, but it would mend. The body of the Kashmer woman was lying as he had first seen her. The long dart that took her life stood untouched upon her back, stained with her blood. Further away, Revwar’s horse still struggled on its side. Trestan saw the person lying injured down the street, and resolved that somehow he should get help for the wounded man.
An unexpected sight came out of a side alley across the street. The adventuress ran out of a small gap between two merchant buildings, approaching the scene of the battle. Trestan remembered how Loung described her: ‘…rough shape, certainly nay condition for traveling.’
Katressa was jogging at an easy pace towards the church. She didn’t appear to be suffering or handicapped by wounds. Quite the contrary, when she got close she displayed nothing more than dried blood near the corners of her mouth. Cat seemed about as beautiful and healthy as when he had seen her at the inn. The half-elf did lack her rapier and helmet , and her crossbow still rested on the ground near the carpentry shop. Trestan noticed she held a small bottle in one of her hands. The half-elf studied the scene of the battle as she ran to the church, but she made a straight run for Trestan.
She looked upon the young man with concern evident in her eyes. “Young sir, are you injured somewhere? Bleeding or hurt in any way?”
Trestan shook his head. “Nay milady, I was under a spell most of the time. My wounds are only in my heart and memories.”
Katressa examined Trestan. She glanced down, and he caught the briefest hint of amusement in her eyes. He wasn’t sure if he imagined it or not, for she looked over to Sir Wilhelm next. Her solemn frown suggested she knew the man was dead. Trestan, studying her face, noticed the slight remains of healed cuts and small bruises. “Milady Cat, the Tariykan with them mentioned you before he rode off. Umm…I should
add he was on your horse when he left. Anyway, he told them you were in bad shape and unfit to travel. He seems to be incorrect.”
Katressa Bilil opened her hand so he could see the holy symbol on the bottle. “I tend to travel with healing draughts when I can. A little drink of those healing miracles put me back on my feet. I was wondering if more might be needed here…” She trailed off as she glanced again at Sir Wilhelm.
Trestan shook his head, “It’s too late for my good friend here. I’m glad he fought bravely and good against such odds. In fact, when he knew death was at hand he actually praised his goddess for the life she had given him. He told me only this morning he hoped he could meet death that way. How rare is that? But, milady, you can still be of help. Down closer to the bridge lays another man that was in the path of those strangers. I didn’t see what happened but they rode him down and lost a horse doing it.”
She patted the smith on the shoulder, “I’ll take care of him and then you can fill me in on the rest of what happened.”
As she ran off, Trestan wondered about that brief look of amusement on the woman’s face. He hadn’t simply imagined it. With nerves and feeling returned to his limbs he soon realized the focus of her mirth in the midst of that terrible scene. His trousers were noticeably wet between the legs. Trestan tried to recall the point in the battle that his bladder relaxed, to no avail. Soon enough the truth occurred to him. Apparently, the abbess’ spell relaxed more muscles than the young smith had initially realized. The young man chuckled over the realization, though the laugh was more of madness rather than a pleasant joke. He had thought that despite the loss he had at least retained his dignity…now he lost even that. It felt like the lowest moment of the young man’s life. In one day he lost so much he had loved.
The Earthrin Stones 1 of 3: Inheritance of a Sword and a Path Page 8